Freedom
by Diana Moore
Summary: Freedom is a trap. The concept itself contradicts itself- if one is free but later is not, that freedom would be temporary, or perhaps more accurate to say that one was never free in the first place, if it could be taken away by another. We are always at another's mercy in this world.


Freedom is a trap. The concept itself contradicts itself- if one is free but later is not, would that freedom be temporary, or would it not be more accurate to say that one was never free in the first place, if it could be taken away by another. We are always at another's mercy in this world. Be it as innocuous as a cruel parent demanding results and an obligation to provide them, or a debt owed to settle an account, or even literal, physical slavery.

Arika is not free. Arika doesn't really understand how she came to be living with the Sakamakis, but their explanation that she was there because of her mother's sacrifice does seem plausible enough. _Some sacrifice_. Even still, she doesn't see her literal captivity as any more or less free than she was before. She had simply traded one fear and obligation for another.

It's been about two weeks since she had come to live here. While the first few days had been a harried flurry with each brother desperately trying to get a turn in, this had mostly died off. The effect of a shiny new toy had lessened, and save for a few visits a day, she finds that their attentions seem to have been directed elsewhere, which she's glad for. Less effort. A daily routine usually consists of a moderate wake-up time, some breakfast, and then lounging around until someone needs her. Which, today, seems to be Reiji.

A sharp knock sounds at Arika's door, rousing her from her dozing, but Reiji does not wait for an invitation to open it. "Come in," she says anyway, dryly.

"I will. I see no need to ask permission to enter a room in my own house," he sniffs. Arika just lifts a shoulder. "Come with me. I require your assistance in the study."

Arika stands, knowing better than to argue. A few lashes across her back had quickly taught her to choose her battles. "What do you need help with?" she asks.

"Nothing terribly difficult, I'll assure you," Reiji answers, tone a bit dismissive. "Merely some cleaning tasks. Since you aren't occupied."

Arika had never stated whether or not she had been occupied, but again, choosing battles is key. "I see," is all she says.

Reiji glances at Arika, sharp eyes missing nothing. "You've been neglecting your health," he accuses, noting her dull, lifeless hair, swollen under eyes, and thinning frame. "You're losing weight. That won't do."

"Isn't that what all girls want? To lose weight?" she says, raising a brow. "You should be congratulating me." They arrive at the study, Reiji leading the way in to reveal a mess of beakers and books strewn about. "Huh, _someone's _been busy."

"I'm always busy," he sniffs. "Anyhow, I'll be monitoring your diet and measurements more closely. It won't do to let your body grow subpar, or the quality of your blood will also suffer." Reiji goes to a table, picking up one of the beakers and spraying a mist inside. "I don't particularly want yet another woman in the house. You, and the women that Laito and Ayato bring through are more than enough trouble."

Arika resists snorting and perches on the arm of a chair. "If I'm so much trouble, you could always let me go," she points out.

"I could, but that would be even more trouble than permitting you to stay. Don't be foolish."

Arika shrugs and stays where she is, but inspects the room. She's only been in here a few times, and in nearly each of them, she's been poisoned with some concoction. She doesn't need to remind herself not to accept tea. Reiji, a moment later, glances at her.

"Make yourself useful and tidy the books, at least," he says tiredly. "Honestly. That I even have to tell you that…"

Arika resists rolling her eyes, going to kneel beside the case and start putting the books back. "What were you working on, anyway?"

"Necromancy," Reiji mutters. "Why, are you interested?"

"Uh, no. I was always more of a rogue when I played Dungeons and Dragons, and I NEVER made this much of a mess."

"I don't even know what that is," Reiji snips. "But I don't appreciate your tone."

"It was a joke, Reiji," Arika says tiredly, immediately sobred. He raises an eyebrow but miraculously, shifts his eyes back to the beaker in his hand. She breathes a small sigh of relief. She isn't exactly eager for any more lashes across her back. One book catches her eye, as it's written in a language she doesn't recognize. She holds it up for Reiji to see. "What's this?"

"Hm? Oh. _Der Giftschranke_. It's a German book of poisons," he says, like that explains it. "It contains some rather redundant information, but so be it."

Arika silently shelves it, and many other books, until the mess from the floor is gone and she is dismissed.

After leaving Reiji's study, Arika makes her way to her room. She collects a change of clothes before ducking into the ensuite bathroom and drawing the water in the tub. While it fills, she disrobes, glancing at herself in the mirror.

These weeks at the Sakamaki manor have not been kind to her, no more physically than they have mentally. Her blonde hair was becoming dull and lifeless, giving way to dark roots. Her pale skin was a bit splotchy, though that was barely the first thing one would notice, given the countless bite marks, bruises, and old scars that littered nearly the entirety of her body. While once, the old, scarred slashes across her wrists and cigarette burns by her collarbones and upper arms would stand out, they pale in comparison to the angry marks left by the vampires. Uncaring, however, Arika steps into the bath, turning off the water and sinking lower with a deep sigh.

She's still trapped. There's an out, there always is, but it's very final and she's unsure if she's really brave enough to go through with it. Arika has attempted to kill herself several times before, but they've always been not because she necessarily wanted to die, so much as she was tired of being alive. _What a convoluted thing,_ she thinks to herself. The air shifts, and a moment later, Ayato stands over her with a grin.

"Hey there," he says, not even being subtle about leering at her naked body, breasts in particular.

Arika just sighs and shifts forward, crossing her arms in front of her chest and looking at him with hard eyes. "What do you want?" she asks tiredly.

"Blood," he says to her chest. "Get out. I don't feel like bathing right now, so get out so I can bite you."

_Why doesn't it surprise me he doesn't want to bathe? Ah, yes, because he's one of those 'Axe is a valid substitute' types._ Too tired to disobey and turn this into something much larger than just a bite and likely some groping, Arika does rise, wrapping a towel around herself before stepping out of the tub. Ayato frowns a touch at the towel, but to his credit, he does wait until she's properly out before tugging her in via an arm around her waist. Ayato pushes her hair aside, wasting no time in sinking his fangs into her neck, closing his eyes and giving a low noise. Arika sags a bit, closing her eyes as well.

Ayato sucks for a few moments, hands beginning to wander. One, unsurprisingly, squeezes a tit roughly, while the other presses her against him tighter and more insistently. It takes her a moment to place exactly what it is, but she soon feels something hard pressing against her abdomen, which makes her eyes shoot open, wide. She quickly places her hands against his shoulders and pushes a bit. "Ayato," she says warningly.

Ayato cracks an eye open, the green of it seeming to glow some. "What?" he asks, grinding a little. "Don't tell me you're going to resist Yours Truly."

"Blood is one thing. Sex is another," Arika says sharply. "I'm not feeling it."

Ayato glowers, grabbing a handful of her ass and moving her to grind back against him. "No?" he breathes, yanking the towel down sharply and moving the hand from her ass to between her legs. Arika reddens, squirming. "Because you feel pretty fucking wet to me. And I don't care. You don't have the right to refuse me."

Arika's heart thumps a little too quickly. The invasive, foreign feeling of somebody else's fingers pressed firmly against her sex certainly begs rapt awareness. "Ayato," she says again. "I don't want to fuck." She's careful not to get angry or blow up, because as she's learned with biting, outright telling him 'no' or physically trying to fight only ever makes them want it that much more. Ayato is quite hard, though, and unrelenting. He shoves her against the counter, twisting her around so that she's bent over it, facing the mirror. He rubs more insistently, prying his fingers inside of her and curling them.

"I don't care," Ayato mutters, grasping both of her wrists in his free hand and keeping her firmly down. Only then does she start to struggle, aggressively. Arika's legs kick, trying to nail him in the balls, or the knee, or anything that would make his grip slacken. Ayato just grins, removing his hand from her sex to undo his pants and free his erection. He strokes himself briefly, before rubbing his cock over her sex. Arika lets out a loud whimper. "You're a virgin, right?" Ayato says in a low, husky whisper. "Yours Truly is going to take that from you." Ayato releases her wrists to instead grab her hair, tugging harshly so that her chin tilted up and their eyes met in the mirror. "Keep your eyes on me. You're going to watch as I fuck you."

With that, Ayato pushes his length inside of her with a low groan. "So tight…" he mutters. Arika can only let out a pained whimper, his cock not even fully inside of her.

"F-fuck. Take it out. It hurts…" she grits out thinly.

"Not a chance in hell," Ayato breathes. With one sharp thrust of his hips, he buries himself completely inside of her, earning a scream from Arika. A moment later, a trickle of blood runs down her thigh. Ayato does not start off slow or gently, fucking her with a hard, fast pace, right from the beginning. She whimpers and cries, legs shaking as her toes curl and she shies away from each thrust, but he grasps her hips and slams himself into her yet harder.

Suddenly, the air seems to change, and Laito appears, green eyes glimmering from under the rim of his hat. Ayato sours a touch. "My, my~ having fun, are we?" Laito says, leaning against the wall. Ayato doesn't even slow his pace.

"Fuck.. gn, off," he snarls, Arika moaning and panting.

Laito chuckles, not fucking off. "Now, now, Ayato. The Little Bitch is everyone's plaything. I only want my turn," he says, reaching down to palm himself over his pants. Arika's just trying to hang on for dear life, but Ayato's thrusts are getting yet harder and sloppy.

"Shut up," Ayato mutters, tugging Arika's hair again. "Moan louder. Let the bastard hear how much you love having Yours Truly fuck you," he demands. Arika can only whimper pathetically, a lewd, shameful blush on her cheeks. Ayato snarls and snaps his hips forward, cumming inside of her with a loud groan. He stays buried inside of her for a moment before stepping back and pulling out, watching with a perverted satisfaction as his cum drips into a puddle on the floor. He tucks himself away, glancing at Laito dispassionately. "Do whatever, I don't care," he says, leaving the room.

Laito smiles, padding forward to stroke the skin of Arika's ass. "Did you enjoy that, Little Bitch?" he purrs, looking at her hazy expression. "It seems like you came… ah, but look," he says, having no shame about reaching around her to play with her clit. "Your cute little pussy seems to want even more… and I can't disappoint!"

Laito grasps Arika by the shoulders, turning her around so that she lays on her back on the counter, and grasps her by the knees to spread her legs. He tuts. "My, Ayato sure did make a mess of you. Let's make a bigger one…" Laito undoes his pants, continuing to stroke her clit in tight circles while Arika jolts and moans, despite the pit in her stomach. Laito presses his cock inside of her easily, letting out a vocal moan. "How tight and warm you are, Little Bitch," he praises, starting off much slower than Ayato had, but positioning himself differently. He shifted the angle of her hips and legs a few times, before seeming to find something he was satisfied with and giving a sharp, hard thrust.

This was nothing like Arika had ever felt before. She lets out a loud, gasping moan, eyes widening as her legs stiffened. Laito smiles jaggedly as she forces a breath out past her lips, which Laito leans down to kiss. "I love you," he says genuinely, before thrusting again at that specific angle.

Arika cries out with each and every thrust, the intensity insane. It was like he was fucking her deepest, most sensitive parts, and knew exactly what to do. She cums absurdly quickly, not even noticing the tears streaming down her cheeks. Laito does, though, kissing and licking them away, before biting down in a spot just above her breast. He continues to thrust, pinning her arms above her head and sucking her nipple once he'd had his fill of blood. Only when Arika cums a second time, her overstimulated sex squeezing him tightly, does Laito cum, also inside of her. The puddle grows.

Tucked away inside her bed almost as if nothing had happened, Arika cuddles a pillow in somewhat of a state of shock. She supposes that three weeks without being raped was probably about as good as she could have gotten in this hellhole of a house, but that doesn't make the situation much better. Though after the incident she had quickly showered in water as hot as she could stand, scrubbing and crying and prying their seed from her sex with her fingers as if she could erase any trace of Ayato and Laito, such simply isn't the case. Her eyes are dull, her body completely still. She doesn't have any energy left to cry.

Arika doesn't know what to feel. Once, she had been a typical Yankee- bleached blonde hair, long skirt, shitty attitude. There were very few people she couldn't give a good smackdown to, should the need arise and at school and on the street, very few people picked fights with her in the first place. She had a reputation as being someone that shouldn't be messed with. But against superhuman strength, Arika feels almost like she's losing her identity. She can't fight them. Like an insect caught in a spider's web, struggling only served to ensnare her yet tighter.


End file.
